THE JOURNEY TO FREEDOM
JOe's scooter story
Why I Loved, Lost, and Reclaimed the Open Road on Two Small Wheels
It all started back in my college days in upstate New York. While my friends were driving around in cars I couldn’t afford, I scraped together $400 for a beat-up Honda Rebel 250. Looking back, riding it without a motorcycle license was reckless, but I was young, broke, and desperate for the freedom of the road. After graduating, I decided to do things right. I took a formal motorcycle safety course, and it completely changed my perspective. I learned to respect the machine, prioritize safety, and truly understand the mechanics of riding. Once I was established in my career, the obsession took hold. I bought a Honda Shadow 600 to recapture my youth, then upgraded to a Honda 919 Hornet for speed. But after hitting 125 mph one afternoon, the reality of the danger set in. I swapped the sport bike for a massive Suzuki Intruder 1500 cruiser, realizing I wasn't built for high speeds—I was a back-road rider who wanted to soak in the scenery. Eventually, I traded up to a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy, thinking it made me look cool. I was a lone wolf, riding 40 to 60 miles at a time. Two wheels were my ultimate therapy—a place where I felt connected to the pavement, as close to flying as a person could get.
Then life shifted. With the arrival of my first child, the risks outweighed the reward. I sold the Harley. It was one of the saddest days of my life, but fatherhood came first. A decade passed. I relocated to Northern Virginia, but the itch never went away. I missed the rumble beneath me and the immediate response of the throttle in my hand. I thought a small 50cc scooter might be a safe, sensible compromise—a gentle way to dip my toes back in. I bought a used $300 Yamaha Vino, cleaned out the carburetor, and discovered the world of two-strokes. After removing the governor ring, that little bike went from a modest 30 mph to a surprising 50 mph. After putting 10,000 miles on that Vino, I was completely hooked. I finally stepped up to a real Vespa GTS 300.
People often ask why I didn't buy a "real" motorcycle again, especially when I had a Porsche sitting in the garage. The truth? The smallbore life was just more practical—and infinitely more fun. There was no smelling like gasoline, no five-minute pre-ride inspections, and no heavy gear to haul around. I could just hop on and go. Before long, my weekend rides turned into everyday commutes. The Porsche sat neglected in the driveway while the Vespa became the favorite vehicle I had ever owned. Single-rider therapy was great, but I wanted to find a community that shared this passion. That’s when I stumbled upon a Facebook group called The Small Bore Corps. They were hosting a group ride with a simple invitation: All scooters welcome. Joining that first ride changed my life.
I found my scooter family
The Small Bore Corps didn't just welcome me—they treated me like family. They taught me mechanical skills, helped me wrench on my bikes, and pushed the boundaries of what I thought a small-engine machine could do. Before joining this club, the furthest I had ever ridden was a short afternoon trip. With The Small Bore Corps inspiring and supporting me, I built the confidence to ride cross-country on a 150cc scooter—a feat I never would have dreamed possible on my own. For a guy who spent decades as a lone wolf, I am immensely proud to call The Small Bore Corps my club. At 55 years old, I can't imagine a future without a scooter in my garage. There is a rare magic in slowing down, twisting the throttle on a smallbore engine, and taking in the world one back road at a time. If you've ever thought about riding, don't let the size of the engine fool you. Come take a ride with us—you might just find the freedom, family, and adventure you didn't know you were missing.